


Large and In Charge

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-12
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-06 08:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15881919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Post-NFA, Riley and Spike meet up in LA. Riley has some questions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jasonsnene](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jasonsnene), [Glassdarkly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glassdarkly/gifts).



> I don't know what gets into me on these "ficlets" lately, but dang! The long-winded bug has attacked.
> 
> This is my mod challenge for darling jasonsnene who asked me for "Spike/Riley, with Riley large and in charge".
> 
> WELL! I made darn sure soldier-boy was in charge, honey.
> 
> Warnings: Explicit mansex. Also vague attempts at a plot. Takes place post-After the Fall, using AtF comics canon but not Buffy s8 canon because I didn't read up to the point where Riley shows up so I'm ignoring it. :P

Boots pelted up and down the quiet streets, echoing on the hard surfaces of closed buildings. Riley motioned two guys from the squad to check out another alleyway as they passed it. What they were searching for, they weren’t sure, but they had all the equipment and experience necessary.

Something had happened in LA., headquarters was certain of that. The science types talked of ‘signatures’ and ‘massive pulses’, but so far all Riley had seen was Los Angeles, big and empty after hours. A hooker shied away as they approached, giving them dirty looks. She read clean on the monitors. If anything, the city was quieter than the last time Riley had seen it. They passed two closed bars before they found one open. Dimico stopped just south of the entrance and waved Riley over.

“Sir, we have two room temperatures inside.”

Riley sighed, looking at the display showing x-ray overlaid on heat – two bodies in the bar moving about without the tell-tale orange glow of humanity. “Vampires. Central Command is talking like this city must have vaporized and re-built itself over night, but all we can find is a couple of vampires out drinking.”

Dimico smirked. “Let’s not get too blasé. I mean, these  _are_  monsters, sir.”

Dimico was new. Riley holstered his gun and took the wooden stake out of his back pocket. “Continue scanning, coordinate with Singh. I’ll take care of these two.”

“Alone, sir?”

It was Riley’s turn to smirk. He turned on his heel and pointed the stake, blunt-end first, at Dimico. “I’ll be out in twenty. Keep moving west.”

Patrons looked up from their beers as Riley entered the bar. Mildly shocked expressions: it was the flack jacket more than anything. More often than not on this mission, they were asked if they were filming a movie.

One head at the bar didn’t look up or back, and it was situated just to the left of the end of the bar, right where the hostile was seen on the scanner. And even from the back, was instantly recognizable. “Oh no. Not you!”

Slicked-back platinum dyed hair turned to show an arched, dark eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t soldier boy!”

Riley shifted his stance, irritated and trying desperately to pick out the other hostile in the bar before he was irrevocably distracted. Southwest corner. He turned, back to Spike. (It wasn’t like Hostile 17 was a problem, was it? Intelligence still put him firmly on the ‘good guy’ side of things.)

An older woman, smoking a cigarette and twiddling a paper coaster, sat alone in the southwest corner. “Hey, big guy,” she said, eyes roving appreciatively as he approached.

“Nothing personal,” he said, and plunged the stake into her heart.

He turned to find the whole room now very attentive on him. He coughed and wiped the dust off his arm. “We’re, uh, filming a movie.”

“What did you have to go do that for?” A man jumped up from an adjacent table. “Fuckin’ vampire hunters. Like Laurie was hurting anybody!” He snatched his windbreaker off the back of his chair and stormed out into the street.

A guy at the bar turned back to his drink with a muttered, “Asshole.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn about LA, mate.” Spike hooked Riley’s elbow and turned toward the door. “Come on, you’re lowering the respectability of the establishment.”

Riley tugged his arm free. “What are you doing here, Spike?”

Spike glanced at the empty table behind them before saying, “The same thing Laurie was doing.”

Riley frowned, not liking the ambiguity. “Soliciting for blood money?”

“No, you absolute berk. Having a beer.” Spike tossed up one hand. “You know what? Don’t take my advice. Enjoy pissing off the locals. They’re a forgiving bunch, after the whole trip to hell and back.”

Spike pushed his way out the street door with his shoulder, hands hooked in his belt to exaggerate his swagger.

All around the bar, hostile faces stared at Riley. He tucked his stake back into his pocket and followed Spike out.

Dimico trotted right up to Riley. “Unbelievable. That wasn’t even five minutes! Are the hostiles…?”

“Keep sweeping. This one’s not hostile. At least, not in the official sense of the word.”

Spike stopped his saunter in the middle of the street. He glanced up, left, and then to the right, down the street, and Riley realized he was picking out the squad, letting him know he knew the tactical situation. “Do you pillocks have any idea what has happened to this city? Or is Uncle Sam meddling about blind as usual?”

One of the privates took a step out from the alleyway he was standing in. Riley held up a hand to hold him off. “We’re here to investigate a paranormal energy surge in this location. If you know anything about that, Spike, now’s a good time to talk.”

Spike curled his lip. “If you want to find out about Hell-A’s little trip there and back again, you’re going to have to lose the glee club, mate. I don’t talk to large groups of soldiers. Bad for my health.” He raised both eyebrows, and two fingers, and turned his back on Riley, walking briskly up the street.

“Sir?”

Riley shook his head. “I’ll handle it. Singh, you’re in charge, continue the sweep. We’ll reconvene at HQ at 0500.”

Spike didn’t look behind him, not once, as Riley tailed him down one block and over two. At the next corner after that stood a gas station, lit up bright as the surface of the moon. Spike stopped there, his head reflecting like a beacon, and lit a cigarette. He blew smoke at Riley. “Look at you: large and in charge. ‘Reconvene at oh five hundred’!” Spike laughed at his own approximation of Riley’s accent and took another hit off the cigarette.

“I don’t have time for games, Spike. What happened to the city?”

To his surprise, Spike lost the bravado. He looked grimly at the gum-splattered pavement and shook his head. “It’s not a pretty story, nor a quick one, and there’s no satisfying lesson to it.” He glanced up at Riley, head tilted. “Anyway, there’s fuck-all you can do about it, so I suggest rounding up the boy scouts and telling the pricks in charge you searched really hard, by golly, and found nothing.”

Riley folded his arms and looked down steadily at the vampire. “I can’t do that.”

“You’re going to have to.” Spike gestured widely with his cigarette. “This thing is past tense, now. City’s back to normal. Well, normal as this town gets, anyway.” He shrugged and started walking again. “Maybe most folks feel a stronger sense of community, but that’s balanced out by more fuckin’ crazies. Really, the whole thing is a wash. ‘Cept for Wes, I suppose.” He shook his head again.

“Spike!” Riley held his ground as the vampire continued to saunter away. “The American people deserve to know what happened here.”

Spike spun on one heel to shrug back at Riley. “Not my country.”

“If you don’t volunteer information, I’ll have no choice but to consider you hostile and take action.”

Spike continued walking backwards. “Always have been hostile, mate. What are you going to do? Put another chip in my brain?”

Riley huffed a short breath out his nose, nodded once, and made a motion like throwing something. Spike flinched, and then fell to the ground, shaking. Riley shook his head again and started winding up the cord. “No,” he said, “I’ll use my taser.”

***

Spike awoke to a splitting headache – which was, rather, his usual wake-up call lately. But he didn’t  _feel_  hung over. He blinked confusedly at the surroundings until vague green-grey blobs resolved into a completely unfamiliar room.

There was a metallic squeak and he looked down. His hand was cuffed to the edge of a metal cot, which complained with his every motion. A perfectly tucked blanket of scratchy wool lay under him, too. He looked up to find Riley standing in what was practically parade rest at the foot of the bed. “Good. That was just about when you should have recovered.”

Spike gave him a hateful look. “Good to know I’m in expert hands.”

“Vampires aren’t complicated, Spike. In good health, the reaction times are pretty uniform. You’re doing well.”

“Woke up a little early, did I?”

Riley shrugged. “About four seconds late. But you always did sleep in.”

Riley had the same calm, vaguely friendly face, even with a scar on it now, a little older. Spike jerked his wrist to make the metal cuff jingle. “This doesn’t intimidate me, Opie. I was recently in a hell dimension where I had to work my way up from prisoner to slave to prisoner with benefits.” He tilted his head, as though fondly remembering, “Then to lord, then prisoner again…”

The mattress dipped as Riley planted his fists on it. “How about you stick to the facts my superiors will find relevant, and remember that this government condones torture?”

“If you really want to disturb me, talk about your sex life.” Spike glanced derisively around the small room, walls of cinder block in institutional green, obviously Riley’s private quarters. “Smells like Rosy Palm’s the only one who’s gotten any action in here since the building was built.”

“You said you went to hell. Who sent you there, and why?”

“What happened to that special ops bird you had? She looked like a goer.”

Riley didn’t move from his position, fists planted on either side of Spike’s feet. “We’re not here to talk about me.”

“What, your tiny government-issue cock not enough for her?”

“How many people were sent to hell? Was it the whole city? A part of it?”

“Now me, on the other hand, I’ve been getting so much trim my dick is actually sore. Seriously, mate, never try to keep a god-king happy. Or an army of warrior women. I set a bad example with Spider. You give in to one and they all want a piece, and I’m not made of metal, here.”

“Spike!” Riley shook the bed. “I’m not kidding around here. Start being useful or it’s not going to be a plastic stake this time.”

Spike sighed, leaning back and shifting his shoulders to try and get comfortable. “All you’ve done is kid around, mate. I told you: there’s nothing to tell. It’s all over, and no one’s to blame.” He bit his lower lip, looking off to the side. “At least, not entirely.”

Riley leaned further, face over Spike’s midsection now. He pushed the mattress again. “What did you do?”

“What I always do.” His head fell to rest on the small government-issue pillow. “Follow the hero into battle.”

“The hero? Buffy? Was Buffy here?” Riley was starting to fume.

Spike wrinkled his brow. “No, not Buffy. As if I’d tell you who it was. You did hear that ‘hero’ bit, didn’t you?”

Riley rocked forward, just a bit, then pushed off the bed to stand. “So it’s Angel.”

“What? That’s…”

“Obviously true, by your reaction.” Riley raised one eyebrow fractionally, his only concession to smug as he turned to pace. “Last reports had you working with him, and for no discernable compensation. Kind of makes me wonder if you’ve changed teams.”

“Piss off. I’ve been one of the white hats for years now!”

Riley smiled and knocked his fists together. “That’s, er, not what I meant.”

“Thought you boys didn’t ask and didn’t tell.”

“Could you answer a question? Any question? Or are you trying to get beat up?”

Spike sighed, long and low. He closed his eyes. “Angel attacked some nasties that were a bit out of his league. They sent the whole city to hell. Which was as advertised. A lot of unpleasant things occurred, but eventually we were able to bring the city back, as it was the moment we left.” He opened his eyes. “All the scars are on the inside. So you see, there really is less than nothing you can do, and all the green paint in the world isn’t going to change that.”

“We could see Angel punished for what he did.”

Spike jerked his arm sharply. The chain on the cuff broke with a quiet “snick” and he jumped to his feet. The broken handcuff dangled, catching and smearing blood as he pointed at Riley. “Angel has suffered enough. You don’t know anything about him.”

“I know he’s an asshole.”

Spike nodded. “All right, you know a little about him. But I’m saying leave the poor, sad old bastard alone. Damage is done.”

“He thought he could make decisions for Buffy, and now he thinks he can make decisions for the whole of Los Angeles. When does it stop?”

“When you let it go, mate.” Spike took a step blithely back and raised his hand, jiggling the broken cuff. “Thanks for the bondage fantasy and all, but I’ve got to run.”

“I can’t let you do that.” Riley’s hand closed on Spike’s bicep as he turned to go.

“Not giving you the choice. Still a vampire.”

Riley peered, earnestly confused. “Why are you defending him?”

“Didn’t come here to get psycho-analyzed.”

Riley dropped his hand. “You didn’t come here at all. I abducted you.”

“And thank you so much for refreshing painful memories.” Spike’s hand landed on Riley’s bicep, mirroring his earlier action. “How I about I drag you to a vamp whorehouse now?”

Riley’s eyelashes fluttered closed, just a second, but it was more than enough for Spike to notice. He let go of Riley like he was hot. “So is that why there’s no Mrs. Government-issue anymore? You’re still hot for fang.”

Riley’s eyes opened, his expression firmed. “No, it’s really not.”

“You have something you want to tell me, soldier-boy?”

Riley opened his mouth, closed it, shrugged with one shoulder, and then nodded. His hand went to the back of Spike’s neck, and before the vampire could pull back in surprise, Riley’s lips were on his, large and firm lips, tasting of clean masculinity. And then he straightened, stepped back. His hand was still on Spike’s nape, his head still tilted down. A long moment passed, during which Spike mostly looked surprised and Riley licked his bottom lip. “No, Spike, I’m not ‘hot for fang'. And by the way? You’re still annoying.” His fingers flexed once, hot and tight on the back of Spike’s neck, and he stepped back. “So tell me again why you’re working with Angel.”

“I’m not.” Spike’s voice squeaked. He swallowed and spoke more calmly, “Not anymore.”

“He dumped you.”

“No!” Spike paced away, gesturing emphatically. “If there was something between me and the poofter, I’d be the one breaking it off.”

“Because you have such a history of being in control in your relationships.”

“And you would know that how?” Spike scowled. “Are you stalking me?”

“It’s my job to keep tabs on supernatural activity in this area, Spike. And you’d be surprised what makes it into your file.” He shrugged again. “You attract attention.”

“From you, for instance,” Spike looked wary.

Riley stepped closer. “I’m not denying it. Seems to me, you switched Buffy for Angel, but the story’s the same; they’re the hero, you’re the sidekick.”

“I’m no one’s bleeding  _sidekick!_ ”

“But you don’t seem to mind secondary roles, do you? Being supportive." Riley smiled, small and teasing. "Standing by your man.”

“Bollocks! I’m not… he’s not… Angel is a good man! I don’t need to suck his cock to defend him.”

Riley touched Spike’s face, just with his fingertips, tracing the edge of his cheek. “Maybe there’s a better way to convince you to help us.”

Spike shuddered, not sure why he didn’t just flee the room, and took another step back. He was only a foot from the wall, now, and the door was on the other side of the room. But he was the vampire here, wasn’t he? He tilted his head back, sneered with all the bravado he could summon, and said, “Ta, mate, but I’ve had better.”

Riley only smiled, and flattened his hand, so warm and roughened with calluses, against Spike’s cheek. “How about you give me a try and then decide?”

The slick painted wall was suddenly pressing against his back. Spike shook his head. “Wait… woah. Why am I the one retreating?” He took a half-step forward, though Riley didn’t back up and their chests bumped together. “You need to remember who wears the fangs in this room.” Spike rolled his neck, fangs and ridges coming to the fore.

A flash of pink tongue darted out, moistening dry lips, and Riley’s hands grasped Spike’s arms. “All right, maybe I am still hot for fang.” He lowered his face, and fangs melted away just as his lips touched Spike’s. It was just a gentle kiss – maybe Riley was a little disappointed the fangs had vanished. Without moving back, his lips moving against Spike’s, he said, “Now how about you stop pretending you don’t love giving up control.”

The idea, the words, “giving up control” made him shiver, a tiny frisson on his spine, and the broad chest before him, the arms thick with muscle – the, well, frankly this was the largest person ever to try to kiss him, and so Spike found himself, rather to his own surprise, opening up as those lips descended again, and then, much to his delight, those thick arms were encircling him, pulling him flush against a marvelous expanse of muscle thinly covered in fabric.

Riley twisted to the left, breaking away from all-too-reluctant lips to breathe. “Yeah,” he said, “that’s what I thought.”

“Smug git,” Spike replied, though without heat. “Not that I don’t fancy a go, as fucked up as the very idea is, but don’t you have some reconvening to get to?”

Riley’s eyes flicked briefly to the clock on the wall. “At 0500. It’s 0150 now. We have time.” His large hands roamed over Spike’s shoulders, down his back, cupped his ass and lifted him back to his mouth.

Friction and human flesh heated Spike’s jeans as he was raised up, pressed to the wall, and forcefully kissed. No, this would be no problem, for a night. He’d worry about the implications, their past history, and all that bollocks in the morning. He wrapped his legs around the straining body, squeezed, and was rewarded with more heat, more friction, almost burning the rivets off his fly.

And then he hit that army-issue cot, skittering it sideways and, he was sure, bending the legs some. The air left him and he smiled in appreciation for the violence of that. Riley calmly pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. “Now me,” he said, hands reaching for his fly, “I like being in charge.”

Spike’s cock didn’t have a problem with that statement and twitched eagerly against tight denim. And seeing as the jeans were being so damn confining all of a sudden, he ripped the fly open, toed off his boots, and wriggled out of them.

Riley opened his slacks and pushed them down, revealing what were, indeed, army-issue green briefs. As he stepped out of them, he looked up to see Spike gaping at him, bare from the waist down, one hand around his erection.

Spike swallowed, his mouth dry, and, with a joking laugh, said, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

Riley had to smile. He gripped the base of his dick, fingers just barely able to circle it. “What, are you afraid of this ‘tiny government-issue cock’?”

“That’s… wow.” Spike’s eyebrows were at his hairline. “Bigger’n Angel’s.” He coughed. “Not that that’s saying a lot. But… uh… damn.”

Riley shrugged with a bare nod to modesty and crawled onto the bed. Spike crawled backward as Riley advanced over him, putting a bare foot on the soldier’s broad chest. “Slow down, there, farm boy. Considering the, ahem,” his eyes flicked down the length of Riley’s body, “think I should be on top.”

“Nah,” Riley said, gently removing Spike’s foot from his sternum and continuing his slow crawl up the bed. His other hand moved slowly up Spike’s thigh and hip, reaching the t-shirt edge and nudging it gently up. His hand skimmed under, exploring abs, chest, and finally tweaking a nipple as he pressed down to kiss again.

“Uh… no, seriously. You could split a bloke in two, and as much as I love the rough stuff…”

“Sh,” Riley nibbled along his jaw. “Buffy didn’t mind.” His fingers crawled over Spike’s thigh and dipped between his legs. Thick, round fingers with carefully trimmed nails, they walked along his skin and then tapped at his entrance and… holy hell that’s the size of his forefinger?

Spike stiffened and pushed up on Riley’s chest. “Yeah, well, I have it on personal authority she had a slightly bigger hole to deal with it!”

Riley shook his head. “I’m really not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” When he felt the body under him become completely rigid, he sighed, took hold of one pale hand and directed toward his groin. “You’ll be less afraid of him if you get to know him better.”

“Not afraid,” Spike muttered, but his fingers were tentative, almost trembling, as they ghosted gently over the broad head of Riley’s cock. Gathering courage, he reached further, set his palm over the crown and rubbed it, marveling at the size, and the fit of it in his hand. “If I’d have known you had a todger like this,” he said, “I’d have hated you even more.”

Riley slipped his hand around Spike’s cock and gave a squeeze. “You have  _nothing_  to be jealous of.”

The talented hand stroking and squeezing, twisting just a bit to run over the crown on each upstroke, was driving all apprehension swiftly from Spike’s head. “Uh… how long have you known you… guh… fancied blokes?”

A puff of warm air filled every cranny of his ear. “The plastic stake might have been a displacement activity.”

“Bastard.”

Riley chuckled, and damn, that breath bathed over his face and tickled down to the short hairs at the back of his neck, smelling so clean and wholesome and alive. And Riley nuzzled his nose along Spike’s jaw and nipped lightly at his neck, and Spike could feel his whole body warming up, flexing up, reaching for more contact with soft, smooth skin, downy hairs and rippling muscle. He arched his whole body – and really that was much better than contact with the blanket, which felt like it was made out of horsehair or maybe wood chips. Riley’s cock filled his hand, and he lifted his body to hump against it. Riley’s fist tightened against him, milking him almost to the edge, pleasure sparking on the edges of his vision, building in his toes, his fingers, his balls, almost… one more pump and…

And then, absolutely unfairly, Riley was letting go of him, stepping off the bed. Spike tried to follow him, feeling bereft now the cold air was slipping into places previously occupied by warm flesh. Riley chuckled and batted his hands away. “I do plan on using lube, you know.” He opened a foot locker and rummaged around inside, bare ass wriggling enticingly.

Spike stood up and ran his hands over that ass, smooth and warm and golden. “You look hot bent over,” he said, thrusting playfully against him.

Riley turned, a bottle of lube in one hand that soon was pressed against Spike’s back as he held him for a long, exploring kiss. “You’re not bad yourself, in that shirt and nothing else. Something kinky about that.”

“Fuck,” Spike ripped the black tee over his head. “Forgot I still had it on.” He stepped closer into the embrace, feeling the gentle shapes of Riley’s body against his bare chest. “This is better.”

“Mmm,” Riley spread his legs, flexed to get lower, shoulders just over Spike’s as he nibbled and kissed up and down his neck. “Let’s get back where we were.”

“Hell yeah.”

Spike wrapped his legs around Riley’s hips, riding up and down, fucking against his stomach while Riley’s gel-coated fingers explored his crack, cool and soothing, slipping in gently and rotating with expert assurance. No, it wasn’t soldier-boy’s first time, not by a long shot. He twisted and pressed. Spike hissed, feeling a burn as two fingers entered at once. “Thought you said you’d go slow.”

Riley kissed his chin. “This  _is_  slow.”

“Riley, I…”

“Shh… just relax. I’ll take care of you.” Riley bent over, letting Spike slowly settle back on the bed while his fingers never stopped working, crooking, and setting off sparks of pleasure as they casually swept over his prostate again and again. Three fingers now, and he flattened them and twisted, causing Spike to arch again at the sudden unexpected burn/pleasure/pain. “There now… hang on.”

“I’m not ready.”

“Yes you are.” And he shifted his weight, hand coming up, sticky with lube, to rest on Spike’s hip as he lined himself up, a solid wall of flesh against Spike’s stretched entrance.

Icy cramps seized Spike’s whole body, and he gasped, mind returning to his first time, a century ago, how scared he’d been, humiliated, unsure… but this time there were warm hands soothing him, thumbs rubbing back and forth from his inner thighs as though spreading out the hurt, and Riley whispered gentle, encouraging things into his hair. “It’s all right, you’ll be all right.”

“Fuck!”

The chuckle felt like it was coming from inside his own chest. “In a minute. Hold on to me. Come on.”

Spike wrapped his arms around Riley’s shoulders and leaned against the sweat-wet chest, struggling to relax, to banish the pain as he was slowly, inexorably filled. He felt his body stretching, stretching… several interminable moments of being sure that was all of it and finding out it wasn’t.

Spike was panting. “Don’t… don’t get to top too many blokes, do you?”

“I don’t like to hurt people,” Riley said, keeping up his careful circles, rubbing, spreading his hands along creamy, cool white skin. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

The pain was ebbing, slowly, spiking up again in short bursts as he unconsciously clenched or shifted, but before it was really gone, Spike nodded.

The first thrust made blood blossom across his vision. The second seemed to jar his spine. The third, he rose up to try and escape. The fourth, he pushed himself down, meeting it with a pleasant, all-consuming smash of flesh.

The bottoms of his feet seemed to vibrate with the sensation of it. Riley’s chin was hooked over his shoulder, his big hands left Spike’s hips and wrapped around his back, sliding on sweat but pushing him up, down, up, down. Spike felt small, delicate, and like his whole body was being fucked, inside and out.

“See, I told you… ugh… told you you could take it. Oh god. Spike… you’re so… sucking me in… so… fuck! So tight!” Riley’s teeth were gritted, his breath coming in harsh hisses as he moved. He leaned back, reached down between them, fisting Spike’s cock hard and fast.

“Gonna cum…” he groaned, jacking hard and fucking hard. Spike felt trapped between the sensations and only moaned in response. Riley’s face was screwed up in an expression half agonized. Spike reached up, ruffling his short hair and grabbing his head, he pressed their lips together, wet tongues refreshing, necessary with the blinding heat that built up between them.

No, not yet not…

Riley slammed him into the mattress. Metal squealed in protest. There was no more thought to spare to niceties like staying upright. Riley grabbed fistfuls of the bed and pummeled Spike like he was trying to break through to the floor. Spike spilled, he popped like a balloon, cum gushing between them only to be smeared, flattened, smashed between two taut stomachs.

“Huh.. huh… uhhh.” Riley’s eyes rolled up, and he fell onto his elbow, back rising and falling in huge gasps as he came down from the rush of his orgasm.

Spike gasped too, and licked salt from his lips. “Fuck,” he said. His joints all felt loose. “Think you fucked me apart.”

Riley chuckled, a little half-heartedly, and his dick twitched, squeezing out an extra drop of jizz and making Spike stretch his neck and gasp again. Riley nipped at the exposed adam’s apple and slowly got up on his hands to ease his way out. They both bit their lips and hissed at the sensation as they separated wetly.

“Move over, bed hog,” Riley said, slapping Spike’s elbow.

“Piss off. Can’t move. You killed me.”

“You’re already dead,” Riley admonished, and nudged Spike over so he could collapse on his back.

They each hung a little off the bed. Spike grimaced and rolled onto his side, his hips loosely jolting in their sockets. Still, the view of a sweaty, cum-streaked Riley, exhausted, was worth the pain. “So, I really didn’t expect our little meeting to end like that,” he said, and they both laughed.

***

“You got the hostile to confess all this?” Riley’s superior leafed through the pages of Spike’s neat handwriting. “Names, dates… he was thorough.”

Riley shrugged. “You catch more flies with honey, my momma always said. We should keep the hostile here, under observation. I mean, until we’ve checked everything out.”

“Of course. Good work, Finn.” His superior clapped him on the soldier. Riley ducked his head, smiling secretly to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a standalone, but then I wrote a couple of sequels...


	2. A First Time for Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Shapinglight, who requested a sequel to my Spike/Riley fic, “Large and In Charge”
> 
> This takes place post “Angel: After the Fall”, ignoring the Buffy Season 8 comics entirely. Instead Buffy and Co (and Riley) were all doing much more sensible things. Riley, in particular, was sent to investigate this weird pulse of magical energy that marked LA disappearing and reappearing. He met Spike and detained him for questioning that turned into hot slashy sex. This starts the next day, as our heroes iron out a few things about their new relationship.
> 
> No particular warnings for this one. But I should warn you I'm thinking of writing a sequel. Again.

Riley was hooked. He knew it by the way he got hard just talking about Spike – impersonally, in a formal briefing, even. He knew it by how frantically he arranged to get all his necessary work out of the way so he could run to the holding cells.  
  
It was like… when he was a kid, his mom hadn’t allowed any candy in the house. She was a bit of a hippy, and living an hour’s drive from the nearest store made it pretty easy for her to control what her kids ate. They had oranges and peanuts in their Easter baskets. But in junior high school, Riley had gotten a candy bar from his coach after a good game. For some reason, he didn’t politely refuse like he’d done when other kids gave him candy. He’d snuck back into the locker room and devoured it. That was it. The end of 13 years of healthy eating. He’d tasted chocolate for the first time and instantly couldn’t get enough.  
  
It was like that. A decade of being very careful with his partners, of avoiding what he most wanted because it would hurt them, and now he’d had it. He couldn’t get enough.  
  
So he hoped he could be forgiven for arranging things so Spike would have to stay in custody for a little while, and Riley would have to ‘interrogate’ him again. It wasn’t entirely proper, but damn, he couldn’t wait.  
  
He practically hopped on his toes while the MP unlocked the cell door, and then he was pushing through it before the officer stepped aside.  
  
To find Spike gone.  
  
Riley turned around in place, staring at the empty cell. A cigarette wrapper was the only sign that Spike had been in it.  
  
“Sir?” The MP was supporting another soldier, in his underwear. “The hostile took Kolowski’s uniform and key card.”  
  
Riley crumbled the cigarette package. “Don’t sound the alert. Tell the general I’ll find him.”  
  
***  
  
Spike sat on his usual stool at his favorite bar, watching a boxing match on the TV behind the bar. The sound was turned way down, but that was just fine for a vampire’s ears, if he paid attention. And he was paying attention.  
  
Still, he knew the instant Riley entered the room – he hadn’t showered. “Hello, Cornfed.”  
  
To his credit, Riley simply dropped onto the stool next to him. “If you want to avoid me, you’re not trying very hard.”  
  
“Who’s avoiding? I just didn’t fancy another stint in government custody. They tend to get a little fresh with my brain.”  
  
“We don’t do that anymore.”  
  
“Well, thanks for completely allaying my fears.”  
  
“Come on, Spike. You know I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you, after… well, after.”  
  
“Right, so keeping me captive was just your way of making me feel wanted.” Spike kept his eyes on the television, kept the hurt out of his voice.  
  
“I know. I’m sorry. I was afraid I’d never see you again. I’m still a little afraid, actually. Last night was… wow, it was incredible. I don’t want to go the rest of my life without doing that again. I kinda don’t want to go the rest of the day without doing it again.”  
  
Spike relented and looked at Riley’s earnest, open face. His lips were open and his cheeks flushed. He was gagging for it. Spike grinned. “Well, that’s what a bloke likes to hear. Do us a favor and write a note to Angel about how irresistible I am? I’m starting a collection.”  
  
“I’ll need a refresher,” Riley said, his hand sliding up Spike’s thigh.  
  
Spike looked down at Riley’s hand then smirked around the lip of his beer bottle.   
  
Riley’s hand pushed between Spike’s legs. Spike raised his eyebrow and choked on beer a little as Riley leaned into him, gripping Spike’s cock through the tough denim of his jeans. Spike looked over his shoulder at the working class regulars. “Not too worried about your reputation, are you, soldier boy?”  
  
“Finish your drink because we’re leaving now.”  
  
Spike glanced down. “You think you’re still in charge? I’m not wearing a uniform, mate.”  
  
Riley tilted his head. “I could dress you up in one if you really want.”  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and tried not to act affected by the commanding tone and manhandling. He dropped his hand on top of Riley’s, and pushed him back away from the family jewels. “You might be ready to fly the rainbow flag, but I’d rather you didn’t yank my dick out in public, all right, Riley?”  
  
Riley’s response was to crack a wide smile. “You called me by my name.”  
  
“Doesn’t mean I want to get engaged.” Spike slipped off the other side of his bar stool before he let go of Riley’s hand.  
  
Riley sighed. “Spike, I’m sorry.” He put his hand back up on the bar. “Come on, sit down. I’ll be good.”  
  
Spike stepped right up to Riley, between the bar stools. “Just follow me back to mine. I’m not a blushing maiden, either.” And he grabbed his beer.  
  
Riley followed him closely, eagerly. He looked around at the industrial ugliness of the street. “So… this is your neighborhood?”  
  
“Had a place in the hills for a bit. Didn’t work out.” Spike fished his keys out as they approached his building. “Haven’t had the maid by for a decade or so – don’t judge.”  
  
Riley crowded up close behind him as Spike unlocked the street door. “I don’t think I’ll even notice the color of the walls.”  
  
“Let’s see if you can make it twenty feet without giving Mrs. Rodriguez fantasy material for a month.” Spike pulled Riley through the door after him and down a short flight of stairs to a basement landing with two doors on it. One was decorated with a twist of dried palm, the other Spike unlocked with his second key.  
  
Riley waited until the door was closed behind him again before attacking – he had said he’d be good, and he didn’t want to scandalize Spike’s neighbor, either. Still, he’d definitely waited long enough. He grabbed Spike by the shoulders and turned him, slamming their bodies together.  
  
And was suddenly against the wall, a snarling vampire in his face. Riley’s eyes dilated, his vision narrowing to the glistening fangs in front of him. And then he was being kissed, soft lips and sharp fangs together. Spike’s thigh forced its way between Riley’s and he rubbed his hip hard into Riley’s fly. Riley tried to move his hands and found Spike was holding his wrists as hard as steel cuffs. The kiss was going on longer than Riley could breathe. He wrenched his face to the side. “Stop.”  
  
“Make me,” Spike purred, and scraped along Riley’s neck, which felt good – amazing, even, but Riley felt a building rage at not being able to move his hands.  
“STOP!”  
  
Spike froze against him, then pulled back. Riley shoved him away. Spike’s ridges faded away and he looked hurt. “Thought you liked a little fang.”  
  
“Not like that.” Riley pushed away from the wall, and, feeling just a little guilty, straightened his clothes.  
  
Spike focused on a point on the wall somewhere to Riley’s left. “I wouldn’t… I won’t force you. You should know that.”  
  
“That’s not it.” Riley stepped toward him and waited for Spike to meet his gaze. “I have to be in control, Spike. I can’t stand it if I’m not.”  
  
The disbelieving smirk he got definitely broke the tense mood. Riley relaxed. “It’s just the way I’m wired.”  
  
Spike crossed his arms. “You expect me to believe that all those times you had a vamp suck on you, you were in control?”  
  
“Absolutely. I was paying them. I said where and how hard. Stop looking at me like that.”  
  
Spike sauntered past, bumping into him. “They would have drained you dry the moment it was more convenient to them.”  
  
Riley turned to watch Spike approach the refrigerator like he was going to seduce it. “Let a guy have his illusions.”  
  
Spike leaned back against the fridge and twisted the top off his beer. “You don’t know what you’re missing. I’ll make you see sparks. Make you beg for more.”  
  
“I bet you could.” Riley set his hands on the freezer on either side of Spike. “But not today, okay? We’ll work up to it.”  
  
Spike dropped his gaze and muttered, “I’m still sore.”  
  
Riley had to hide his disappointment. “Hey, we don’t have to do that every time.”  
  
“Fuck.” Spike shrugged and pushed Riley out of his way. “I’m not a blushing virgin, here. I’m stronger than you. Nigh indestructible, if you don’t cut off my head.”  
  
Riley rolled his eyes. “I don’t think less of you as a vampire.”  
  
“Don’t do me any favors.” Spike dropped onto the couch.  
  
“I realize this relationship is kinda new, but we’re alone, together, and we can do whatever you want. This doesn’t have to be about dominance. It doesn’t have to be anything at all.”  
  
“Until you throw me in a jail cell.”  
  
Riley slipped the television remote out of Spike’s grasp and tossed it back onto the side table. “No one’s coming. I back-dated your release, fully authorized. I admit, I was tempted. I wanted to keep you. Can you blame me?” He nudged his way between Spike’s knees and put his hands on the couch back behind him. “Now can we please, please get naked?”  
  
Spike tilted his head back, looking up at Riley with amusement, his beer resting on his belt buckle. “So how does this work, then, if neither of us is throwing the other on the floor?”  
  
Riley dropped his elbows onto the sofa-back, snuggling in tight against Spike. “Haven’t you done this before?”  
  
“Please.” Spike wriggled nicely and got his beer out from between them. “I’ve done everything a body can do to, with, or on another.”  
  
“That’s not what I mean.” Riley drew his nose gently along Spike’s jaw and kissed the soft space just below his ear. “I mean the pace – slow and sweet. No struggle for dominance, just…” he dragged his lips along Spike’s cheek and placed a slow kiss on his mouth, slightly open. “Just go with it.”  
  
They both smelled the beer pouring out on the floor. Spike wrapped his hands behind Riley’s shoulders and lifted himself up against him, returning the kiss hard and probing. When Riley started to tense from lack of breath, Spike broke off. “Hate to break it to you, but someone’s got to top.”  
  
Riley gasped, cheeks flushed, and recovered to a distinctly evil grin. “So there  _is_  something you haven’t done.”  
  
“I bloody well… guh…” Spike lost his train of thought as Riley’s big hand pried his cock free of his jeans.  
  
Rutting up against him was getting in the way of getting his jeans off, so Spike let himself fall back and set to kicking his boots off while Riley jacked him with agonizing slowness and care.  
  
“Now you’ve got it out, do something with it,” Spike teased, shimmying out of his jeans.  
  
Riley lowered his head and licked a wide stripe across the tip. Spike hissed and raised up his hips for more, but Riley held off to open his own trousers. Spike was about to protest, but then that big, warm hand was wrapped around him again, pressing him against a big, hot dick, which rubbed up and down deliciously.  
  
Spike finally got his legs free and wrapped them around Riley’s flexing hips. “I  _have_  done this before,” he said.  
  
“Well, if I’m boring you, why don’t I stop?” His hand relaxed.  
  
“Asshole,” Spike said, gripping around Riley’s hand.  
  
“It’s the sweet talk that really gets me.”  
  
Despite his greater strength, Spike gave in after his fifth attempt to increase the pace was met with resistance. Riley seemed intent on going teasingly slow, warming up every nerve ending with friction and his own body heat. Somehow Spike managed to get Riley undressed, working that in between very pleasant handfuls of muscle. It helped that Riley got distracted for a good three seconds when Spike nipped at his jugular and flashed a little fang. When that stopped working he dragged his fangs along the side of Riley’s neck and was rewarded with a gasp and a raised chin.  
  
Riley was rubbing his whole body over him, pressing him into the sofa, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to slip his fangs in. The skin parted easily, almost welcomingly, and hot blood filled his mouth. Riley cried out and hot spunk spilled over his chest a second later. Riley’s bulk sliding down him on a sheen of sweat and jizz, plus a few more slow strokes, took Spike over the edge too.  
  
Spike laughed as they settled in a tangle on the too-small sofa. “All right,” he said, kissing Riley’s damp temple, “Don’t think I’ve ever done it quite like that.”  
  
When Riley lifted himself on one elbow, smiling brightly, Spike added, “Don’t be smug.”  
  
Riley rolled off the edge of the sofa and onto the beer-wet rug, dragging Spike down on to of him. “Sure. There’s a first time for everything.”  
  
The End 


	3. The Ex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for shapinglight who asked me for a little Spike/Riley H/C.
> 
> Just for fun I decided to continue the last Spike/Riley prompt I did for her, with a Spiley meeting post-After-the-Fall. You don't have to read that to get this one, just know that it's post-After-the-Fall, Riley and Spike have met up and hit it off.
> 
> Warnings: Angel is more than a bit of a dick. There's violence and dub-con and tasty tasty badness. Gotta lay on the "H" to get some "C" in, right?

Riley felt his cheek for bristles. Finding some, he lathered up some more and made a second, upward pass with his razor.  
  
He then fell forward against the sink as a weight hit his back, arms and legs wrapping around his torso. His razor clattered in the basin. He gripped the edge and looked up at himself in the mirror, alone. “Spike… if you were going to wake up and say good-bye, you should have done it an hour ago.”  
  
“You should have woken me.” Riley could feel the cool breath and smug smile against his neck. “I missed your morning press-ups. You know how I love those.”  
  
Riley turned in the cage of arms and legs and gave Spike a firm kiss, leaving shaving cream on his nose. “I could have cut myself.”  
  
“You couldn’t cut butter with that safety razor.”  
  
“At least I don’t have to go back to 1925 for replacement blades.”  
  
Spike looked genuinely put-out. He didn’t have many antiquarian habits, and he was defensive of those he did have, like shaving with a straight razor. “There’s a shop in LA. I told you.”  
  
Riley rubbed his cheek against Spike’s just to get more shaving cream on him and see his scowl. Then he patted his ass. “Let go. I have to finish getting ready. I’ve got a briefing in twenty minutes.”  
  
Spike lifted, against Riley, rubbing their groins together in a very very distracting way. “C’mon, love. Don’t go.”  
  
“I have a job.”  
  
“Pizza place on the corner is hiring.”  
  
“Spike.” Riley carried him to the bed and dumped him on it. “You know I have to go. Why don’t you call up Angel or something and get involved in one of his missions? I bet I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”  
  
“Oh,” said Spike, and lifted himself up on one elbow. It was a very cold “Oh”.  
  
Riley sighed. “What?”  
  
Spike shrugged. “So when you save the world, it’s a job, but when I do it it’s a hobby. Something to keep the wifey busy.”  
  
Riley set his fists on the bed on either side of Spike’s hips. “You’re not going to keep me here any longer by having an argument, either.” He kissed Spike’s scowling forehead. “Anyway, you’re not my wife. If anything, I’m the wife. I clean the toilet.”  
  
“You  _use_  the toilet.”  
  
Riley backed away from the bed, arms out. “Not my fault I have a digestive system.”  
  
Spike pouted. “I love your digestive system.”  
  
“Now you’re getting gross.” Riley quickly wiped the excess shaving cream off with a hand-towel and dropped it on the sink. “I really, really have to go.” He picked up his shoulder-bag and leaned down to kiss Spike again, but Spike was in full-on sulk mode and turned away.  
  
Riley sighed. He imagined calling Buffy and commiserating with her on the frustrations of dating a temperamental vampire. Wouldn’t that be beyond weird? He wondered if the threat would snap Spike out of it. Instead he just said, “I’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
And then he was out the door, and feeling guilty.   
  
***  
  
Did secret government missions have to take so long? Already the apartment was losing the cozy feel of a living inhabitant. Riley added so much – warmth, smells. There was the way he folded his towels like a drill sergeant was going to stop by and inspect them at any moment, the way he arranged things in the kitchen. His stupid sports paraphernalia that clashed with Spike’s stupid sports paraphernalia to create the very organic feeling of two blokes living together. (Technically, Riley still had a room at his base, but he only spent the absolute minimum time there.)  
  
Spike was proud of having survived two days without calling Angel for a mission. He didn’t need sodding Angel to do good. Things hadn’t been right between them, anyway, since Spike had turned his back on Wolfram and Hart in the hopes that Angel would follow. Angel hadn’t. And then Angel had stopped returning Spike’s calls, anyway.  
  
Spike had gone out patrolling and busted up a mugging and scared off some bloke that was harassing a woman. Not LA-in-Hell type drama, but doing his part. Spike stared at the television, not even remembering which teams were playing or which one he wanted to win. It was American soccer and he mostly rooted for teams based on what cities he’d enjoyed staying in more, but there were so many he’d never even heard of. East Lansing verses Ypsilanti? Where did they even get these names?  
  
Spike was eyeing Angel’s number on his cell phone when he heard the street door open upstairs. Instantly he was at the apartment door, looking up. He smelled the blood before he saw Riley, coming down the steps slowly, leaning heavily on the railing. Riley looked up, eyes a flash of light in a face darkened with bruises, and then tipped forward. Spike just managed to get under him before he fell the rest of the way down the stairs.  
  
Spike had vampire strength on his side, but Riley was a large, awkward mass to maneuver down to the small landing Spike shared with Mrs. Rodriguez, and he didn’t much fancy knocking on her door with Riley’s boots. Riley was fully unconscious and badly hurt. Spike had to force himself to go slow to get him gathered up and into the apartment, though he wanted to rush. Riley was human. Wounds didn’t just heal themselves.  
  
His hands shook as he laid Riley down on the bed. He then had to pick his feet up and put them on, too. Still shaking. The smell of blood was intoxicating, making his stomach clench while at the same time his head was spinning, sick at the sight. Loving humans could give a vampire an eating disorder. Spike undressed Riley, carefully, biting his lip with worry. If he found a wound he couldn’t handle… what then? Call the base? He still wasn’t all that fond of Riley’s employers and their attitudes toward the undead. Would the hospital ask too many questions?  
  
Riley’s bruises felt fever-hot under Spike’s touch. He tore the shirt rather than move Riley too much, then felt bad because the force of tearing brought a groan from Riley and a flutter of his eyelashes.  
  
Although it slowed things down yet again, Spike went and got the first aid kit so he could use the scissors on the rest of Riley’s clothing. The black special-ops fabric put up some resistance, and he kept hitting straps and zippers which he had to stop and un-do. Every second, he feared Riley was losing life-blood.  
  
But when he finally got the clothing off, he found only a few shallow cuts. He rolled Riley over carefully and saw lash-marks. His fingers traced the puckered welts. Then he smelled, under the blood, over the blood, through the blood – Angel.  
  
Spike saw red. He felt his fangs grind. Somehow he continued his inspection. He checked over Riley’s body top to bottom, methodically, trying not to think about what he saw. Then he got washcloths and soap and a towel and set to work cleaning him.  
  
Riley’s arm moved, pushing the rag away from his side. Spike looked up to see Riley looking at him. “Wha?”  
  
Spike didn’t like the unfocused look of his eyes. He touched his lips to Riley’s forehead. “You’ve had a concussion, you giant idiot. Rest.”  
  
Riley mumbled something, it might have been ‘yes’ or ‘rest’, and settled back down.  
  
“Idiot,” Spike said, and felt tears threatening to spill. He took the bucket of soapy water to the sink, rinsed it out and re-filled it.  
  
When he turned back to Riley, he hated how pale he looked against the black sheets, and most of all he hated the thick fingerprint bruises on his hips.  
  
***  
  
Riley awoke to the familiar sight of the acoustic tile ceiling of Spike’s apartment. For a brief moment, he felt relief. His last waking thought had been trying to get here, and he’d made it.  
  
Then he remembered what he’d been running from. Escaping. He struggled out of the bed, which seemed to grip him like a dozen hands. He felt a dead arm across his middle and flailed until he fell right out of the bed.  
  
Someone grabbed him and he fought them off, kicking free until the wall was safely behind him.  
  
Spike stood in front of him, tousled and half wrapped in the bed-sheet. “Wonderful to see you, too, sunshine.”  
  
There ought to be nothing more beautiful than a sleep-toussled Spike, but Riley felt cold and sick every time his thoughts ventured near touching vampire flesh. He felt the wall and tried to ease himself up. “I don’t know why I came here.”  
  
Spike’s eyesbrows canted. “Because you live here. Get back in bed. You’ve been worked over.”  
  
“I have to get to base. Tell them it was a trap.”  
  
Spike was all over him as he tried to stand. Riley tried not to cringe away, but he could see the hurt in Spike’s eyes like a raw wound. “I’m sorry,” Riley said. “I have to go.”  
  
“Say the word,” Spike said, softly and with deadly seriousness. “Say the word and I will end him.”  
  
He was hard and cold and  _dead_  against Riley’s side and it was making him want to scream in a way he had never felt before. Riley shook his head and tried to fake confusion. “What are you talking about? End who?”  
  
“Angel. I’ll tear his head off.”  
  
“There’s no Angel. It… I was on a mission. I have to report in.”  
  
Spike’s arms were hard around him, immobile bands of steel. Riley fought the urge to hyperventilate. “Bollocks. You can’t go anywhere. You’re bleeding and concussed and who knows what else. You need to go to the hospital.”  
  
“Then I’ll go to the hospital.” Riley used all his strength to break Spike’s hold. Spike staggered back, stunned by the violence. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need you to take care of me.”  
  
Spike reached out to him. “Of course you are. Of course you don’t. But I can help, yeah?”  
  
“I can’t be here.” Riley ran out of the apartment, not even stopping to put on shoes.  
  
Spike tailed him all the way to the military base, and then paced it’s perimeter, frustrated and helpless.  
  
As the sun threatened to rise, Spike left, consoling himself that at least Riley was safe in the bosom of the military. And they could take care of his hurts. The physical ones, anyway.  
  
Spike wasn’t at all surprised that his footsteps led him to Wolfram and Hart.  
  
Harmony let him into Angel’s office. Spike didn’t wait for her or the lawyer Angel was talking with to leave. “What did you do to Riley Finn?” He demanded. “You sick bastard.”  
  
Angel tossed the paper he was reading aside and leaned back in his chair, an amused expression on his face. “I didn’t do much to him. Just held him down a bit. I think he has control issues. Guess I know who was on top.”  
  
“He’s human. You can’t do that.” Spike looked to Harmony and random-lawyer-man for some support, but they were smiling and backing out of the room like it was an ordinary business conversation. Spike strode up to the desk, picked up Angel’s fancy marble business card holder, and hurled it at him. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tear your head from your shoulders right now.”  
  
“I thought I was doing you a favor.”  
  
Spike blinked, unclear if Angel was being serious. He had Angel’s heavy marble name-plate in hand, prepared to send it after the card holder. “How was that, then?”  
  
Angel shrugged, languid and unconcerned. “He obviously raped you. I made it clear he shouldn’t do that again.”  
  
“Why would you think he raped me?” Spike was breathless.  
  
Angel leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and looked suddenly nasty. “Since you don’t swing that way, what else was I supposed to think when I smelled you all over his dick?”  
  
“Oh for the love of Christ.” The name-plate spun through the air end-over-end, raked over Angel’s hair as he ducked, and left a triangular dent in the wood paneling where it hit. “You cunt. You absolute cunt. I turned you down once, and it was bleeding eons ago. You honestly think you have something to get back at me for? You think you can just tuck your soul away in a pocket and be a complete evil son of a bitch?”  
  
Angel had a slight smile as he watched Spike pacing and gesturing at him. “So what you’re saying is, you like taking it up the ass now?”  
  
Spike slammed his fists on the desk and snarled at Angel’s smug face. “I will make you pay for what you did.”  
  
“I can recommend a good lawyer,” Angel said.  
  
With an inchoate roar, Spike launched himself over the desk.  
  
***  
  
Spike wasn’t home.  
  
Riley paced through the small apartment one more time, even though there weren’t many places a vampire could hide in it. Under the bed? Behind the couch? The tiny closet?  
  
Riley stood in the middle of the apartment, straddling the edge of the linoleum of the kitchenette and the cheap carpet of the living area, and ran his hands through his hair. Did Spike run away because of how Riley had treated him? It was just the icing on the cake. The one person he could turn to for comfort and support, and he’d pushed him away.  
  
It had been a full day and night. Riley had retreated to the sterile care of the military, seeking comfort in the sounds and smells and orderly life. He’d done all the right things. He filed his report in unflinching detail. He talked to the counselors. He endured the physical examination. And then he’d had enough of that and just wanted a damn hug. He was man enough to admit it. But it was full day out, and Spike wasn’t home. Was he trapped somewhere behind the light?  
  
He sat gingerly on the edge of the too-low sofa and stared at his cell phone. Five unanswered calls to Spike. He dialed again and listened to it ring.  
  
He was so despairing of an answer it took him a moment to realize the call had been picked up. He quickly sputtered into the phone. “Spike? Where are you? Look, I’m sorry about how I left yesterday. I was… I had things I needed to work out. It wasn’t you.”  
  
“Aw, that’s touching,” Angel’s voice replied. “I’ll pass it on to Spike, but he’s a bit tied up right now.”  
  
Instantly, Riley was on his feet. “You piece of shit. I will have the entire army --”  
  
But Angel had already hung up.   
  
The cell phone plastic creaked in Riley’s grip, but he felt clear-headed for the first time in days. Sharp, clear and angry.  
  
***  
  
Angel tossed the cell phone onto the table in front of Spike. “Sounds like your boyfriend is on his way.”  
  
Spike strained against the chains holding him in the interview room chair. “Leave him alone. He’s human. That used to mean something to you.”  
  
Angel pursed his lips. “I’m not this moustache-twirling bad guy you seem to think I am.”  
  
“Oh, sorry, having your minions shock me and chain me up gave a bit of the wrong impression. I suppose you were just afraid of losing another fight.”  
  
“I wasn’t going to lose,” Angel said. He walked around the table, behind Spike. Spike struggled to turn and keep him in sight. “This is all for your own good, Spike. I mean, seriously, Riley? How low IS your self-esteem?”  
  
“He’s a better man than you ever were and you know it.”  
  
Despite his best intentions to the contrary, Spike flinched when Angel touched the back of his neck. There was a pause, and then Angel simply rested his hand there, a casual but possessive grip. “So I can’t convince you to break it off? For your own good? We’re not good dating material, Spike. If you don’t care to preserve your own dignity, do it for his sake.”  
  
Spike tried to lean away from the gentle, implied control of Angel’s hand. “Word of advice? Chaining people up is a terrible way to resolve emotional conflict. Trust me, I’ve tried it.”  
  
Angel’s fingers squeezed, gently, and his thumb stroked the soft skin under Spike’s ear. “Well, then, if we can’t resolve anything, I’m going to have to do some pretty bad things to Riley to scare him off for good.”  
  
Spike’s head sank. He fell forward, letting the chains hold him up. “What do you want?”  
  
Angel stroked his neck again. “That’s more like it.”  
  
***  
  
Riley ran into the lobby of Wolfram and Hart with the long stride of someone who has been running a long time. But he nearly tripped when he saw Spike standing by the reception desk, hands in his pockets.  
  
“You… you were supposed to be kidnapped.”  
  
Spike walked up to him. “Let’s just go home, yeah?”  
  
Riley pulled back when Spike tried to reach for his arm. “Where’s Angel?”  
  
“Who the fuck cares? He’s a sad, lonely old bastard who killed or scared off everyone who ever trusted him. Let’s leave him to it.”  
  
Riley blocked off Spike’s path to the door. “What did he do?”  
  
“Nothing.”   
  
Riley raised an eyebrow.  
  
Spike sighed. “I’ll tell you everything when we get home.” He glanced pointedly at the law-minions milling about. “Not here.”  
  
Riley nodded tightly and led the way out the door. His fists were still clenched, prepared for a battle that hadn’t happened.  
  
Spike couldn’t take the angry silence. He never was one for silence. Less than a block away, he said, “The bastard threatened all sorts of nasty things if I didn’t break it off with you. Can you believe that?”  
  
Riley stopped mid-step, glanced at Spike, and continued walking. “Is this you breaking up with me, then?”  
  
“Don’t be daft. I told him to shove it up his fat Irish backside.”  
  
“So why are we walking home instead of fighting Wolfram and Hart security?”  
  
“There was something else he wanted more.”  
  
Riley did stop, then. He put a hand on Spike’s chest and stared hard at him.  
  
Spike sighed. “Don’t worry. No one wants my tight arse as much as you do. Not even him. He wants me to work for him. Busting baddies. He still thinks he can save the world from behind a desk.”  
  
“And he let you go in exchange for that? A promise to work with him?”  
  
Spike shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “Yeah.”  
  
“You’re lying.”  
  
“I bloody well am not.”  
  
Riley crossed his arms.  
  
Spike sighed again. “You really want to do this out here on the street?”  
  
Riley’s jaw worked back and forth. He looked back at the Wolfram and Hart building like he had half a mind to level it with his bare hands. “I guess not,” he said, and turned, stiffly, back to walking.  
  
Spike was scowling and suspecting a fight to break out as soon as the door closed behind them, so he wasn’t in a particular hurry to get home. So when he saw the apartment building loom in the distance, he stopped. “We shouldn’t be fighting each other. We should be figuring out what to do to teach Angel he can’t get away with this shite. Just because he has a sodding empire and all the joy has been sucked out of his life.”  
  
“I know,” Riley said, quietly. “My superiors had me file a restraining order.”  
  
“A restraining-! Did they also waggle a finger at him?”  
  
“Spike, I just want to get home.”  
  
“Right,” Spike said, following Riley’s silent form. It felt like walking to the headmaster’s office.  
  
But when the door to the apartment closed behind Spike, and he let out a breath to begin explaining himself, he instead found himself gathered into a warm, hard embrace. Spike was startled, tried to say something, forgot what it was, and then found himself rather helplessly melting into the comforting arms. “I-“  
  
“I love you,” Riley said, “And I’m so relieved and happy to have you back safe.”  
  
Spike rested his head on Riley’s shoulder and didn’t mind, for the moment, that his lover was so much taller than he was. “I was trying to defend your honor. Cocked it up.”  
  
“We both get ‘stupid man’ points this week,” Riley said. He ran his hand over Spike’s back and then gently separated from him so he could look in his face. “Are you all right?”  
  
Spike ducked his head. “Of course I’m all right. Just… failed, didn’t I?”  
  
“Would you mind coming to bed with me?”  
  
Spike squinted at Riley. “What the hell kind of question is that? Would I bloody  _mind_?” Spike dropped his coat off his shoulders and started on his shirt buttons. “Mr. Finn, if you don’t get your clothes right off I’ll hold you in contempt, or something. Think I’m mixing up courtroom drama and military.”  
  
Riley stepped between Spike’s arms and stilled his hands with his own. “I failed, too. Angel took away my sense of being in control. I hated it. I’m still dealing with it. I want you, but I need to be in control.”  
  
Spike looked down at their hands, and then back up. “All right,” he said. “Truth is, I need you, too. Need to know you still want me.”  
  
Riley took over removing Spike’s shirt. He leaned down and kissed the angry fang-marks on his shoulder and the bruises still darkening on his chest. Spike held still, not quite sure how much Riley meant about being in control. Riley was gentle and careful with him, exposing and inspecting each part of him with kisses and caresses until Spike stood naked and slightly ashamed, seeing the clear marks on his skin, but Riley didn’t react to them. He just led Spike to the bed and laid him down gently on it.  
  
Riley made no move to undress, himself, but kissed and touched and massaged until Spike was almost weeping with relief, feeling cherished and really, really turned on. It was a bit of a kink, the feel of rough clothing against bare skin, moreso when Riley laid down fully on top of him, grinding his clothed erection against him and kissing him slowly and sweetly. “Turn over,” Riley said.  
  
Spike didn’t want the kiss to end and chased after it. Riley pulled back. “Turn over NOW.”  
  
“Bossy,” he said, but did as ordered.  
  
Riley stroked his side one more time, long and sweet, and then uzipped, grasped Spike’s hips, and thrust in hard. Spike cried out. It hurt, of course, Riley wasn’t a small man, and he was still sore. Still sore and still lubed up and they both knew. Riley must have guessed to have not bothered with preparation. The sides of Riley’s zipper bit into his flesh and his hands were hard, digging in for purchase as he set a punishing pace. Spike tried to turn to see him and be assured by his face, but Riley pressed him back down into the bed without a word.  
  
Riley did not want Spike to see his face. He knew he must be snarling. He had suspected, but knowing… knowing. He felt more anger than passion. A need to hurt. A need to obliterate any trace Angel left on the flesh that should be Riley’s alone. There was no room in his thoughts at the moment for love or respect. He fucked with all the hate and anger he had, grunting and pushing with all his might, tearing his toes up against the metal bedposts as he fought for more leverage. When he came, his vision went white and he found himself unspooling, exhausted, suddenly unable to keep any part of him up. He fell forward and Spike made a sound, a strangled gasp as the last air was pushed from his lungs, and Riley was momentarily surprised to not be alone.  
  
He quickly rolled off to the side and urged Spike up. Spike’s face was tear-streaked and he looked at Riley uncertainly. Riley rubbed a tear away with the pad of his thumb. “You aren’t going to work for Angel,” he said, and then pulled Spike to him. Spike resisted for a moment, then relaxed, letting himself be held. 


End file.
